Summary: She was on the run when she met him. On the run from her past mistakes. On the run from her current ones. What she didn't know was that she was running straight into the arms of the man that she was destined to spend the rest of her life with. Or so says the matching arrow-shaped scars that she and Oliver Queen share. But there's more to her match than she knows and life is about to take a dangerous turn for one Felicity Smoak. Soulmates AU. No island. No vigilante.

Prologue

Present Day

The rumble of a motorcycle pulled her from a dead sleep.

For a long moment she lay frozen in the darkened room as she tried to decide if the sound existed outside of her dreams. It came again, that familiar purr that sent a shiver down her spine, and she sat up abruptly.

She had done as he'd instructed. She had disappeared, stayed off the grid, made herself scarce. But they'd found her anyway.

As the motorcycle drew closer, Felicity threw back the covers and scrambled from the bed.

The cabin that she'd claimed as her home for nearly ten months was one large, open room with only a narrow bathroom enclosed at the back corner. It was remote, inaccessible from any of the main roads, and almost twenty miles from the closest populated village. She had wanted to vanish and she thought she had.

The bare floor was jarringly cold beneath her feet as she raced across the room to the wardrobe that sat against the far wall. She flung open its doors, the hammering of her heart making her dizzy, and dug around inside.

Her fingers wrapped around the smooth wooden staff just as the cabin door burst open.

Mid-October in these mountains was quiet, cool, and darker than hell. Very little light filtered in through the dirty windows but her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and as he stepped into the room, she could make out just enough of his features to know that he was dangerous.

Bás vibrated in her hand, the power contained within the staff coming to life as fear poured out of her. The man looming in her doorway exuded an energy so strong that it permeated the air around her and it didn't take the flash of ocean blue eyes for recognition to set in. Her grip on Bás slackened and she stepped out of the shadows. Her heart pounded now for an entirely different reason as he turned in her direction. The staff fell from her numb fingers and clattered to the floor.

"Oliver."

She crossed the space between them without thinking and threw herself against him. Her arms looped around his neck and she pressed her face to his chest. He carried a scent that was distinctly him, hints of sandalwood and pine and something that had always reminded her of a warm fire. It flooded her senses. It roused in her feelings that she hadn't felt in close to a year. It made her forget her natural instinct to survive.

Large, calloused hands closed roughly around her upper arms. Her body jerked in response but she had no time to brace herself for the fall. He shoved her with enough force for her feet to momentarily leave the ground before her whole body slammed into the floor. The air left her lungs in a rush and she tried to fight the sudden vertigo that rocked her. She moved before he could, sliding away from him even as he lurched for her. He caught her by the ankle, his grip bruising, and Felicity bit her lip to keep from crying out. He flipped her over with ease, as if she were nothing more than a ragdoll, and straddled her chest. The weight of his much larger body pressed her into the hardwood at her back. One knee had her left arm pinned to the floor but her right remained free. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bás. Just out of reach.

Oliver's hands closed around her throat then and she felt panic surge within her. She bucked her hips, kicking her legs wildly, in a futile attempt to dislodge him. It was no use, she knew. He had almost a hundred pounds on her and for the first time in her life, she cursed her petite frame. She struggled in vain to reach for the staff she had dropped, knowing that the power contained within would be the only way to stop him. His eyes were cold, lifeless as he stared down at her.

With what little energy she had left, she called out for Bás. The staff trembled against the floor before skittering toward her. She closed her fingers around it once again and a faint glow emanated from it. Its aura grew brighter, the trembling suddenly stronger, and she lifted her arm quickly and jammed one end of it into the base of his skull.

I met him today. I knew it as soon as he looked at me. I have never seen a man so beautifully frightening. He is large, broad shouldered and solid muscle. Dark hair, the color of fresh coffee. Bright cerulean eyes, a shade I've never seen before. He looked at me with those eyes and everything I thought I knew fell away.

She sat with her back to the wardrobe, knees drawn up to her chest, and clutched the now-motionless staff in both hands. He lay a few feet from her, still unconscious from the blast of energy she'd hit him with, and she waited silently for him to wake.

She wasn't sure what was happening but the man who had attacked her was not the same man that she had known so many months ago. She didn't know what they'd done to him but he had looked at her as if she was a threat. As if she was the enemy.

A glimpse of black ink on the instep of her left foot caught her attention and she stared at the tattoo for a long moment.

"Who are you?"

Her head shot up as his gravel-filled voice reached her ears. He hadn't moved much beyond sitting up and Felicity took a moment to study him in the low lamplight.

He wore a familiar pair of blue jeans, the denim encasing his muscular thighs like a second skin, and a dark cotton t-shirt that bore the logo of a bar she had once frequented. His unruly black hair was even more tousled than normal and his bright eyes were hooded as he studied her in return. He made no move to come closer to her and she knew that Bás served as a deterrent.

"I'd rather not have to ask again."

She sighed, "My name is Felicity. Do you know who you are?"

He scoffed, "Of course. And you seem to know, as well."

"You're name is Oliver Queen."

He didn't react to the fact that she knew his name and Felicity continued to watch him warily. She had never been apprehensive with him, not even in the beginning. But this man didn't seem to know her. She had trusted him implicitly, once upon a time, but common sense was telling her that she had no reason to trust him now.

"How did you find me?" she questioned.

He didn't respond verbally. He simply made a motion with his right arm that allowed her to see a simple tattoo, identical to her own, etched into the smooth skin of his forearm. She shivered.

"Why did you come here?"

He shrugged and leaned back casually, arms out behind him, ankles crossed in front of him. He looked relaxed but she felt his calculated gaze as it swept over her. He made no comment about her state of undress, neither about the fact that her legs were bare beneath the hem of her t-shirt nor about the fact that he could – no doubt – see her underwear. She felt no need to hide. She wasn't worried about modesty.

"It was a mystery," he said finally, "The coordinates. Wasn't exactly sure what I'd find here but I was almost positive I'd find that."

He gestured to Bás but she didn't acknowledge the motion.

"How do you know my name?"

She debated, briefly, on how to answer. A lie was on the tip of her tongue but she hesitated before feeding it to him. He had always had a way of knowing when she was lying. Whether he would still be able to tell now that he couldn't recognize her, she couldn't be sure. She decided that the truth would be her best bet.

"Because I know you, Oliver."

He stared at her.

"What's your last name, Felicity?"

She hesitated but continued along the path she'd already decided on. She went with the truth.

"Queen."

His expression never changed. She had expected shock or, at least, surprise, at her revelation but she got neither from him. He simply continued to stare at her with those intense eyes that caused goose bumps to prickle along her exposed flesh.

"I'm going to take a shot in the dark here and say you are not my kid sister."

She shook her head slowly. His gaze immediately traveled to her left hand where her ring should be but it wasn't there. It never had been. She'd never worn a ring on her finger and neither had he.

"You're just a kid," he muttered then, looking more than a little angry at himself, "You're what, twenty? Twenty-one? Christ."

Felicity couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her.

"I appreciate the compliment but, if it makes you feel better, I'm twenty-nine, Oliver. Not a kid."

He didn't seem particularly relieved by the knowledge that his wife wasn't just some snot-nosed brat.

Sitting up suddenly, he thrust his right hand in her direction and Bás immediately responded, flying from her grasp to his. She flinched at the way the staff lit up under his touch. It was, after all, his weapon.

"Knocked me out with my own cosaint. How'd you even manage that? It isn't supposed to respond to anyone but me, not unless –"

His eyes grew wide as he gazed at her then. The shock she had expected earlier was there now. He sucked in a deep lungful of air and she knew then that he'd figured it out. It didn't mean he remembered her, but he knew. He knew that she was his. He was hers. And the weapon in his hand was bound to protect them both.

The mark on me is small. A tiny arrow carved into the skin of my wrist. It looks like a scar, that's what I always thought that it was. But Oliver has one, too. His is just as small, dainty, and looks odd on his sun-darkened skin. It is on the small of his back, in one of the little dips on either side of his spine. When he showed it to me, I wanted nothing more than to touch my lips to it.

He was on his feet in front of her pacing. She had seen him like this before. Frustrated. Confused. Realizing that the entire world was out of his control.

He thrust his free hand into his hair and a soft growl came from somewhere low in his throat. She had heard that sound before, too, and she knew what it all meant. She remained motionless in her spot against the wardrobe. Bás was clutched tightly in Oliver's hand.

"You can't – we can't –"

Felicity continued to follow his movements across the room. He didn't know her. Didn't know that she loved him, that he loved her. Didn't know that for ten years, he had been the only constant in her life. He knew nothing of the bond that held them together. The lack of connection she felt for him in that moment cut her deeply.

"I am and we are. Oliver, please, stop pacing. You're making me dizzy."

He stopped abruptly and the look that he gave her was another that she was familiar with. She held out her hand and Bás came to her immediately. It was something that only the two of them could do. The staff would not respond to anyone else and responded to her for only one reason. One simple reason.

"You're her."

"And you're him. Seriously, please sit down. I feel like I'm going to be sick."

He huffed out a laugh.

"You're not the only one."

She knew that she flinched at his harsh remark and she was sure that he noticed. Neither of them addressed it.

"Why are you here? Hiding out all alone? How long have you been here?"

She shrugged, twirling Bás between her fingers. His eyes followed the action.

"You told me to come here. If anything happened to you, I was supposed to pack up and disappear."

He finally sat, joining her on the floor again, and she was thankful that they were at eyelevel once again. He was quiet for a long moment and when his warm fingers touched her foot, she started.

"Coordinates. You told me to come here. This place specifically. Made sure I'd never forget."

He sighed and as his thumb traced over the miniscule numbers, Felicity shivered and withdrew her foot from his grasp.

"What happened to me? Why did you think you had to leave?"

"You don't remember?"

He shook his head.

"You didn't come back. You always came back. And it felt wrong. You've always told me to trust my instincts and something inside of me was telling me to run. I knew I wasn't safe anymore."

He continued to study her and Felicity allowed it. There was no way to tell what would spark his memory but if being examined this way would draw something from the recesses of his mind, she would welcome it. Besides, if he was busy examining her, he couldn't protest the way that she was cataloging every inch of him.

He looked none the worse for wear. Ten months hadn't changed him, at least not outwardly. His memory had been altered – clearly – but there was no telling what else they'd done to him. She couldn't be sure how much he knew, about himself, his job, his world. For all she knew, Oliver's whole life had been twisted.

"Where have you been?"

He glanced past her, his eyes finding something else to focus on, and she waited for his response. He took his time in voicing an answer and Felicity wondered if he would answer truthfully. What reason would he have for lying to her?

"I woke up in my apartment four days ago with no memory of the last few months. Shit, the last year really. And what little I do remember is broken… fragmented."

She canted her head and watched his expression change.

"You tried to kill me last night."

Had it really been that long ago? The sun was coming up, early morning light streaming through the windows indicated that it was – in fact – a new day.

Oliver shrugged, "Instinct, I guess. I sure as hell wasn't expecting to find anyone here waiting for me. All I was looking for was that."

Bás thrummed in her grip. The staff had a life of its own most days.

"Guess it was a little shocking, finding your cosaint in the hands of a stranger."

He snorted, "A beautiful stranger who happens to be my wife? Yeah, shocking doesn't begin to cover it."

He has a secret. I'm sure of it. I don't know what it is yet and I don't know for sure that he'll tell me but every time he looks at me, I see it in his eyes. It's only been a couple of weeks but I know that nothing will ever be the same for me. He can't walk away from this anymore than I can. And I don't want to. I can't imagine leaving him. Not now. We have the Marks.